Now the hour bends down and touches me
with it’s clear, metallic ring:
my senses tremble. The feeling forms: I can—–
and I grasp the malleable day.
Nothing was complete before I saw it,
all becoming stood still.
My eyes are ripe, and whatever they desire
approaches like a bride.
Nothing is too small: against a lovely background
I paint it large and lovingly
and hold it high, and I will never know
whose soul it may release…
The Poetry of Rilke. ISBN: 978-0-374-53271-0